Electric Orange

Maya stared into the bathroom mirror, hands trembling. The hair dye box promised 'sunset copper,' but her hair was definitely, aggressively orange. Like traffic cone orange. Like "what was I thinking" orange.

"You coming?" Chloe yelled through the door. "Jason's here!"

Jason. The reason Maya had attempted the DIY dye job in the first place. Because he'd mentioned once that he liked girls with red hair, and she'd panicked and bought a box from the discount bin at CVS.

"Yeah, one sec!"

Her palms were sweating so badly she could barely grip the door handle. Palm sweat. So hot. This was fine. Everything was fine.

She stepped into Chloe's living room where twenty people were already squeezed onto couches and floor cushions. Someone had dragged an old TV from the garage, and a tangled mess of HDMI cable snaked across the carpet like a dead snake. Maya tried to step over it and nearly tripped, her orange hair flopping into her face.

Jason looked up.

Time stopped. Or maybe it just felt that way.

"Whoa," he said, eyes wide. "Maya?"

Here it came. The laughter. The "what happened to your head" jokes.

"Yeah, I... it was supposed to be different," she mumbled, already turning toward the door. "I should probably just—"

"It looks sick," Jason said. "Seriously. It's so you."

Maya froze. "What?"

"You always wear that black hoodie, you're always quiet in class," Jason stood up, stepping over the cable mess. "But this? This is like you're finally letting everyone see the actual you. It's brave."

Outside, thunder rattled the window frame. A flash of lightning lit up the room, turning Jason's smile into something momentary and perfect.

Maya's heart did that thing it always did in romance novels—the skipping, the racing, the impossible physics.

"I mean, I still could've picked a better color," she managed, but she was smiling now.

"Nah." Jason gestured to the empty spot beside him on the couch. "Trust me. Electric orange? It works."